


empires will come and go but i have found my kingdom in you

by NoGood_InGoodbye



Series: A Kingdom of Heroes [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Eventual Romance, F/F, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-28 17:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13276131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoGood_InGoodbye/pseuds/NoGood_InGoodbye
Summary: The Barden Bellas had hated her the day she first tried to save someone (try being the operative word and Bellas being more singular than plural). She didn’t know what specific thing about her the Bellas disliked, but whatever it was had kept her at the top of their blacklist for the past four and a half years.Or: They have powers, Barden needs heroes, and Beca just might be one of them.





	1. Saving people isn't her shit

**Author's Note:**

> Moving on from the sadness of reality!!! I've had this fic for months now and it's really slow going but is going to be an actual mutli-chap and not just a 4-part like the Lost In Love series! This is just one of the many surprises I've been working on over my three week break so hopefully I'll be able to push through and get everything done!
> 
> This is a superhero au and _will_ feature all the Bellas, but, spoiler, not all of them have powers hahaha. This'll be endgame Bechloe and I'll be adding other ship tags as the story goes along :) Title inspired by/by Louis Theroux
> 
> Really excited to finally be sharing this with everyone! Tell me what y'all think!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own any PP characters. And I will try to update every two weeks (key word being _try_ ). Unbetaed!

Running around saving people and shit wasn’t Beca’s ideal weekend plan, but seeing how her ex was the idiot kidnapped and she _had_ just gotten used to his stupid mug, she figured getting the sorry ass wouldn’t be the worst way to spend her Saturday night. Thankfully, it wasn’t the first time she was going out and playing hero for a day. She didn’t make it a habit, but saving idiots had gotten frequent enough for her to get a stupid-ass costume and pick up some equally idiotic alias.

“Alright, shortstack, guards are humping out in two minutes. Get ready to get your freak on,” her earpiece informed her as the brunette leaned back on the ledge she was crouching on.

Beca let out a small sigh as she shook her head at her teammate’s intel. For once, she’d like a _normal_ , _understandable_ sentence to leave Amy’s mouth. Just once is all she needs. At this point, she’s slightly annoyed at herself for actually understanding what the Aussie says nowadays.

“Tell me when it’s clear, FA,” the masked brunette muttered as her fingers fiddled with the gadgets on her belt. Her index tapped a steady beat on her sun bomb as she watched silhouettes pass in and out of the windows laid out below her. Her legs tensed as she heard her earpiece crackle back to life.

“Ten seconds, shorty.”

Gloved fingers pulled away from the bomb, curling around chipped stone as the brunette started to lean forward. Her mind counting down with the voice in her head.

_5…_

Her footing shifted to let her right foot hang a little off edge.

“Four.”

The entire warehouse dimmed from a light grey to deep black.

_3…_

Her legs lifted slightly as her fingers loosened around the pillar she rested on.

“Two.”

Thin pink lips took in a deep breath.

_1…_

Beca jumped just as Amy urged “Now!” in her ear, the tiny brunette leaping from her spot across the building and crashing through the warehouse’s window, head tucked into her arms as she landed with a tumble.

Slivers of glass glinted under her as she grunted and wheezed her way back to her feet—she needed to start taking Stacie up on that cardio offer (also, what the hell was the use of having superpowers when she didn’t have the fucking stamina to use them?). Wiping off the dust and shards that had stuck, icy blue eyes scanned the warehouse calmly as sturdy black boots stepped over and past the debris. She sucked in a steadying breath as she turned off her mufflers (big headphones that were once expensive ass Philip Fidelios but were now even _more_ expensive, adjusted sound mufflers and a communications tech) with a soft snap of her fingers.

As cold blue eyes adjusted to the dim, almost nonexistent lighting in the warehouse, Beca picked up the quiet hum all around her. Closing her eyes, the world sharpened at the slightest noise. The light breeze whistling through the broken window, the soft patter of a leaking pipe, the steady thrum of a heartbeat, the soft breathing of a—metal sliding quietly against each other, stiff cloth rustling together—hostage.

Small, leather-covered shoulders sagged in relief at the sound, cold blue eyes opening to scan the area again. At the soft rustling of cloth, the masked brunette ran over to the silhouette of a body slumped in the darker corners of the building, steps light but fast as she slid to a stop and broke the handcuffs that bound the man with her hands. He was knocked out cold and offered no assistance or resistance as she easily threw him over her shoulder and made to turn back to the window.

Her steps faltered to a stop at the sudden sound of wind blowing tightly and she knew exactly who was flying in—that, and the woman’s muttering was way too loud and giving her too much of a headache. She snapped softly twice with her free hand, blowing out a soft sigh as the world muffled back into place and Amy’s creative commentary crackled back to life.

“Shortstack,” her teammate continued without waiting for a reply. “The she-Nazi should be dropping in at any second.”

“Yep, I know,” Beca muttered in reply, adjusting the weight on her shoulder as she stepped deeper into the center of the warehouse. She pressed two fingers to the pulse on her neck to activate her voice scrambler. “Comms off for now, FA.”

“Aw, but Beca!” Amy whined but the masked brunette gave a final, firm “no” before she slid her thumb down her index and the comms finally turned off.

The second of silence Beca treasured was interrupted by the burst of light that poured into the spot right in front of the brunette, followed by debris nearly hitting the masked kind-of-hero and her just-recently-almost-saved-victim. Thin pink lips frowned under the black mask as a blonde, shield-wielding woman landed in front of her with a strong _thud_.

The brunette couldn’t stop the muttered “Flashy” that escaped her.

Metallic green eyes glared under a navy blue mask, a strange sort of spotlight causing a halo to appear over the blonde’s head from the hole she’d made in the roof. The shield-wielding blonde straightened to show off her navy blue and white armor, frowning as she addressed the much shorter, masked woman. “Phantom.”

“Captain Bella, what a pleasure,” Beca’s deepened voice drawled, smirk evident under the black mask the not-quite-superhero (vigilante is the formal term, or so she’s been told. Beca doesn’t quite give a fuck) wore.

“I can’t quite say the same, hobbit,” the blonde hero crossed her arms over her chest as a blinding red light zoomed into the hole in the roof. Beca barely had time to cover her eyes before the light—a literal human torch—disappeared into an auburn-haired woman (although the brunette knew the hair was as red as the flames the hero could create). The brunette’s attention returned to the blonde as the woman tsked. “I didn’t think you’d stoop so low as to kidnap the chief’s son.”

Beca scoffed—the sound picking up on her scrambler like an angry family of gorillas—her grip on the man loosening as her brows drew together. “I didn’t kidnap this shit—I just _saved_ him. Why the fuck would I waste my Saturday night kidnapping this idiot?”

Captain Bella looked ready to deck her at the insult and Beca was kind of glad to be holding the man—it seemed like he was the only reason the hero hadn’t made a move to assault her just yet. The redhead laid a placating hand on the blonde’s arm, warm blue eyes turning to icy blue and freezing the brunette in her place (if only she could blame the redhead’s stupid powers on her inability to function).

“Phantom,” the readhead’s voice was sickeningly sweet (Beca was melting). “If you didn’t kidnap Mr. Swanson, do you know who did?”

Beca nodded like the idiot she truly was, taking a few seconds to find her voice before she managed to say, “Uh, yeah. The Troublemakers left a ransom note at his place, so, yeah…”

“You know where Jesse _lives_?” the blonde captain’s eyes twitched (she swore it did, it wasn’t just a trick of the moonlight—also, _Jesse_? How close was her idiot ex with this she-demon?).

Beca tried to play it cool, happy that the world was muffled and she didn’t have to concentrate on anything other than their voices and Jesse’s breathing and her breathing and having enough oxygen in general.

“No, but my intelligence team got the news so—here I am.” She was glad she was used to lying—that shit she just made up wasn’t half that bad.

She increased the buzzing in her mufflers to block out the gentle whispers the pair were throwing each other—she may have a deep dislike for the captain, but even she didn’t want to know what she talked about with her second-in-command (that, and she had _some_ common decency. Eavesdropping was still wrong no matter the person). After a few heated seconds of aggressive whispering, the brunette watched the blonde captain’s shoulder slump before tensing a second later as she turned to face her. Beca slid her thumb up her index finger as she lowered the buzz and quirked a brow at the hero.

“It seems there was a misunderstanding,” the blonde’s clipped tone did not seem apologetic in the slightest. “So we will let you go this time—” the captain winced at the elbow that dug into her ribs, but she simply clamped her jaw shut and shook her head. Her readheaded second-in-command sighed as she turned her attention to the brunette. “We’re sorry about the misunderstanding and thank you for saving Mr. Swanson, Phantom.”

Beca shrugged with her free shoulder. “It’s nothing, but, uh, do you guys want to take him? I don’t really feel like lugging him back to his—wherever he lives.”

Captain Bella sounded exasperated as she rolled her eyes and nodded, taking the man and carrying him like a bride as her companion grinned in thanks. Beca started walking back to her broken window (she wondered why Captain Bella could get away with breaking a rooftop while she was _sure_ she’d be condemned for breaking the window in the news tomorrow) as she waved half-heartedly at the pair.

“We’ll catch you in the act someday, Phantom,” Captain Bella called to her retreating back just as her readheaded companion shouted, “Bye Phantom! Thanks again!”

Beca couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped her as she jumped from crate to box and back out the window as she landed the thirty foot drop with a tumble and a grunt (fucking cardio). She looked back at the looming building, wondering idly if the redheaded hero was named after her power or her personality—because the sun had nothing on Sunshine.


	2. The team with no name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was thinking,” the Australian continued without pause as she grabbed her own can. “We could be, like, the Teen Titans or some shit.”
> 
> “What the hell? We haven’t been teens in forever and only Stacie’s tall enough to be called a titan.”
> 
> “People mistake you for a teen all the time,” Stacie retorted, smirk wide and teasing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm not completely satisfied with the quote I'm using in the story's summary so I might be changing it as I write more hahaha. Also! GrEAT news! I finished chapter 4!!! I'm working on chapter 5 now and it looks like it's actually going somewhere!!! Yay me <3 I'll be working on the library au as well and hope to finish it before the month ends!
> 
> If you notice any plotholes or grammar mistakes or typos, please just comment below! (Or comment just to make me feel good, I dig that, too ;))
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own PP or the characters. Unbetaed. Again, will update around two weeks from now!  <3

Life returned to peaceful solitude after the kidnapping situation last Saturday. Beca didn’t have to put on her stupid ass Phantom costume and no one she knew and kind of cared about had been abducted or threatened in days. All in all, the brunette’s week was looking up.

Jesse had called her two days after his kidnapping, having gone through a medical checkup right after she’d rescued him and had thanked her profusely and offered to buy her some coffee as a reward.

“What the hell, Swanson?” she’d greeted him in their favorite coffee shop just a block away from her apartment, her usual headphone mufflers traded for smaller, more compact, less noticeable earbuds. “You going cheap on me just because we broke up?”

The messy haired brunette grinned in reply, squishing the small woman in a quick (unwanted and unnecessary) hug before returning to his seat and waving at the waiting coffee cup in front of him. “You know I can’t afford to get you new headphones, much less that turntable you’ve wanted. I’m not exactly in my old line of business anymore, Bec.”

“Is that why Bumper got you last Saturday?” the shorter brunette grudgingly accepted her ‘reward’ as she adjusted the buzzing in her earbuds to focus only on Jesse but block out the rest of the café.

“Probably,” Jesse shrugged as he took a sip of his own drink. “I can’t really tell. That guy’s always hated me.”

“At least he hasn’t gone after Benji,” Beca sighed as she started on her own drink—black coffee with only milk, because Jesse wouldn’t hear the end of it if he got her anything else. The pair drank in comfortable silence for a few minutes before the superpowered brunette asked, realizing she’d forgotten a big factor in their encounter. “Wait, how did you know I was the one to save you? The Bella-Nazi was the one to get you out of there…”

Jesse sighed, shaking his head. “You’re 24, Bec, you should really stop calling her that.”

Beca frowned in reply, “I’ll stop when she stops calling me hobbit.”

“You two are children,” the man muttered, rolling his eyes before returning to the actual question. “Anyways, I found out you saved me because of a certain redhead who’s taken quite the liking to the _mysterious_ Phantom.”

Beca straightened at the answer, a smug smirk tilting her lips. “Of course she’s taken a liking to the Phantom. The Phantom’s a hot fucking badass.”

“I heard she’s also incredibly humble.”

“Hell yeah,” Beca grinned and Jesse rolled his eyes in reply. “So, you talked to Sunshine?”

Jesse nodded, shrugging slightly before returning to his drink, “Yeah, just a bit. She stayed with me while Captain Bella talked to the doctors… Why? Is someone _interested_?”

Beca scoffed, frowning at the man as a sharp blush covered her cheeks. “ _No_ , of course not. The day I involve myself with the Bellas is the day I skinny dip in your dad’s pool.”

The mischievous grin tilting Jesse’s lips disturbed the woman, who tried to change the topic as fast as possible. “So how’d your old man take the news of your—situation?”

“Never even heard about it,” Jesse smirked slightly as he shrugged a shoulder, eyes falling to his drink. “Saved the day pretty quick, hero.”

“I believe it’s called vigilante—or as the great old captain has called her,” the shorter brunette paused dramatically, “An outlaw.”

“But aren’t outlaws _against_ the law?” the other brunette’s brows furrowed, deep brown eyes muddled in confusion.

Beca shrugged, smirk sliding into place. “That’s what she believes the Phantom is. Whatever. I do my shit and she does hers.”

“You guys should really talk your differences out, you know.”

“And where’s the fun in that?”

Jesse rolled his eyes in reply before moving the conversation along to a different topic, the heavy atmosphere of superpowered politics being thrown behind them.

 

Three days after her little coffee meet-up with her ex, Beca returned to her apartment after an incredibly stressful day of manning the soundboard to find her living room taken over by a bunch of misfits—her bunch of misfits.

The brunette dropped her bag by the entrance as she locked her door and slid her headphones off with a wince. Her fingers fumbled for the earbuds in her pocket, popping them in with a relieved sigh as her thumb adjusted the buzzing to a more reasonable, tolerable level. With the noise ebbing away and the pounding in her head at the sudden sound receding, Beca turned and stared at the group sprawled around her apartment.

“Did I miss the memo…?” Beca’s hands rested on her hips as her head tilted in question.

Stacie grinned at her from the couch as Lily shook her head from the window (which, thank _god_ it was closed. She didn’t want a repeat of last time) and Flo shrugged from her spot on the floor. Amy stood from the arm chair she had commandeered and clapped her hands as if starting a grand meeting (Amy never did anything less than grand, that’s for sure). “We are gathered here today, shortstack, to finally commemorate our teamliness by coming up with a sickass group title.”

The brunette blinked, taking in everything Amy said and the people crowding her home before she realized that she definitely couldn’t do this shit sober. She nodded once at the blonde before turning on her heel and heading straight to her kitchen. She replied over her shoulder after managing to process and translate the blonde’s words, “So you want us to come up with a team name?”

“Exactly! Knew you’d come around, tiny,” Amy cheered, falling back into the armchair as Beca brought out her six pack and carried it back to the living room.

The tallest brunette cheered at the alcohol as Beca placed the pack on her coffee table and took one for herself.

“I was thinking,” the Australian continued without pause as she grabbed her own can. “We could be, like, the Teen Titans or some shit.”

Beca snorted, taking a gulp of her beer before falling on to the couch next to the long-legged brunette. “What the hell? We haven’t been teens in forever and only Stacie’s tall enough to be called a titan.”

“People mistake you for a teen all the time,” Stacie retorted, smirk wide and teasing.

Beca shoved the other brunette lightly, rolling her eyes before she returned her focus to her beer. Amy continued to shoot out team names (something about having to match the damned Barden Bellas, or whatever) from her spot in the armchair. “Okay, how about… The Marauders?”

“Fuck no,” Beca leveled her with a stern glare. “We are not fucking _wizards_ or _witches_.”

Stacie exaggerated a gasp from her left. “You watched the movie?!”

“You know I’ve read the books, asshole.”

Amy hummed, “Sometimes, I forget you’re the teeniest bit cultured.”

“Fuck you all.”

“My uncle sold his and my cousin’s leg to immerse themselves in Asian culture,” Flo piped up from her corner on the rug.

The brunette ignored the woman’s comment, taking a gulp of her beer before returning to the topic. “Okay, back to the naming thing. Do we even really _need_ a team name? I mean, it’s not like people know we work together.”

“Oh please,” Stacie scoffed. “The Slut and Asian Dragon work together _plenty_. It’s only _your_ fucking Phantom ass that refuses to team up.”

“First of all, you’re the most recognized superpowered bitch around, so you wouldn’t exactly help with the whole _Phantom_ image, Stace. Secondly, I _have_ worked with Lily before, remember? During that heist almost two years ago? Third, I really don’t feel comfortable fighting next to someone who calls themselves The Slut.”

Stacie quirked a brow, “Are you slut-shaming, Beca? Because that is all kinds of fucked up.”

“What? No! I’m just—I just—”

Amy held a hand up to stop her, “Save yourself, shortstack. You’ve just angered the Hunter.”

“See! Why couldn’t you have called yourself the fucking Hunter?!”

“That’s my vagina, Beca,” the taller brunette scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not naming myself after my vagina.”

Beca threw her hands up in defeat, crushing her finished beer with one hand as she stood and made her way back into the kitchen. “You guys are impossible.”

“We should call ourselves the Dudes!” Stacie exclaimed, having quickly gotten over her teasing little spat with the shorter brunette.

Beca poked her head back into the living room, brows furrowed in both question and suspicion. “Why?”

Amy shrugged, a mischievous smirk tilting her lips. “You say it all the time. Why not?”

“Dude, not cool.”

“We’re totally the Dudes,” Stacie grinned at the Australian, ignoring Beca’s indignant huffs and protest.

The blonde grinned as she clapped her hands and declared, “We are, for now until a better team name is composed, The Dudes!”

Beca groaned in protest as she emerged from the kitchen with a mug of instant coffee (because coffee goes well with beer, right?), frown growing at the sight of Stacie drawing their supposed team logo on a tissue napkin while Lily nodded at the design (even if she was still sitting by the window). The brunette sighed resignedly at the fact that their team name would be The Dudes (until she came up with a much better fucking name), the strangest fondness rolling over her at the sight of the women she’d trust with her life arguing over whether to include a dick in their logo or not.

Before she could join the conversation (or just sit and watch as she usually did), Amy jumped in her seat at the vibration on her chair. Everyone turned to watch the Australian fumble around to find her cellphone and let out an excited whoop.

“Looks like we’ve got our first shindig as an officially named team, ladies!” the blonde continued to read whatever message she’d received (Beca didn’t even have the time to correct her in saying that they weren’t _officially_ named). “Some drug sighting over at Highnotes territory.”

“What’s so special about that?” Stacie shrugged as she looked up from the ugly ass logo she was trying to draw. “Everyone knows the Highnotes have that shit. It’s their thing.”

“Oh, it’s not the drug sighting that’s the big deal,” Amy grinned, eyes turning from her screen to everyone else.

“Just cut the dramatics, Amy,” Beca rolled her eyes and the Australian pouted for a second before giving in.

Amy turned back to her phone. “The one leading the operation is Unicycle.”

Stacie’s brows furrowed. “You mean—?”

The Australian’s voice was a strange mixture of excited and worried. “The Highnotes are working with the Troublemakers.”


	3. When they fall, we rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So bossy,” Beca muttered, a small smirk quirking her lips as she ran ahead of the car and dropped into an alleyway a few blocks down the one-way road.
> 
> “Fuck you, too, babe,” Stacie chirped before the comms crackled off and the faint sound of an engine dying and ground crunching made its way to her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for SMTsukishiro and isacabral and everyone else who's still on board! <3 I'm sorry to say that my updates may start taking a while as I'll be preparing for my thesis defense this sem/term/whatever and I kind of really want to get the fuck out of undergrad soooooo~ Still! I hope to update every two weeks and if you've seen my little update, this story is _supposed_ to be 28 chapters. Let's hope I hold to that! Hahahaha
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own PP or the characters. Unbetaed. Will update in around two weeks, hopefully!

Beca didn’t like working with others—or people, or human beings, in general. It’s not that she didn’t _love_ Stacie and Lily but working with others was just such a _chore_. She had to make sure everyone was going the same direction (and she could never be quite sure with how easily Lily disappeared into the crowd) and that they weren’t destroying too much public property and that they were going to their destination at a reasonable time and pace (and that was practically impossible with how many times Stacie stopped to pose for pictures) and—she really hated working with others.

By the time they reached Highnotes territory, Beca was half-tempted to ditch her friends to go off and survey on her own. As they made their way deeper into the shadier parts (of the shadiest part of the city) of town, Beca motioned for her teammates to split up and cover ground, waving at their comms to tell them to communicate through there. Stacie replied with a lazy salute before jumping off the roof they were meeting on and blending into the crowd. The masked brunette knew that she wouldn’t be seeing her friend until things got really nasty and turned to Lily who was staring past the brunette.

Her lips seemed to be moving as she whispered something and Beca had to lower the buzz on her mufflers to hear the girl say, “I’ll be hiding in the pigs.”

The masked brunette gave a confused nod in reply before watching the girl turn into a small lizard—a _dragon_ , Stacie had scolded her—and scurry off the opposite way. Beca looked to the last path to take, letting loose a soft sigh at the reminder that she didn’t have powers to help teleport her to where she wanted to be. After letting out a small crack in her neck, the brunette took a step back from the building’s ledge and sprung off, managing a good enough jump to land two rooftops away.

Beca had jumped four rooftops before she’d spotted a familiar maroon Camaro parked in front of a dusty looking shop.

The brunette dropped on to the parapet, black-suited body sticking close the base. The deep red car was still as glaringly shiny and obnoxious as ever—even in the dying afternoon. A nostalgic smile tilted the corner of her lips as memories of midnight drives up the mountain and her favorite mixes blasting through the stereos froze her in place. She wondered if she could take a picture to show an annoyingly excitable brunette—he’d probably get a kick out of the fact that Bumper hadn’t wrecked it yet.

Before her thoughts could wander any further, the piercing chime of rusted bells brought her back to the present.

A tall, built figure stepped out of the shop, shoulder-length frizzy curls and a maroon suit jacket setting the man apart from all the passerby. Steel blue eyes watched the man wave lazy signs at a shadow in the shop before nodding and making their way to the Camaro.

Beca turned on her comms as she whispered out the address and the spotting. She watched the man open the driver door before getting bumped by a rushing teen, legs tensing as she turned to the other building. She waited for two affirmatives (or at least a hum or some reminder of life from Lily) before setting off after the vehicle on her feet.

Her comms crackled softly before she heard. “Lily’s in there messing it up, you go and get Unicycle, and I’ll handle the interrogation and the surveillance.”

“So bossy,” Beca muttered, a small smirk quirking her lips as she ran ahead of the car and dropped into an alleyway a few blocks down the one-way road. The masked brunette ducked behind a dumpster as she adjusted her muffler and activated her voice scrambler, waiting for the grind of wheels crunching on asphalt to near.

“Fuck you, too, babe,” Stacie chirped before the comms crackled off and the faint sound of an engine dying and ground crunching made its way to her ears. Beca turned up her muffler, muting the world around her as she prepared herself for the oncoming car.

Black suited legs tensed as steel blue eyes watched the hood of a sleek maroon Camaro sputter to a stop in front of her. The masked brunette didn’t wait to watch the driver grumble and curse as she slipped out of her hiding spot and jumped over the hood to the driver’s side, thumb sliding down her index finger as she adjusted her muffler to hear whatever the man had to say.

To passerby, it would look like their average old late afternoon mugging. To the driver staring up at the vigilante who’d just pulled his door open, he knew it was more than that.

The masked brunette smirked down at the man who scrambled for the gun under his seat. She calmly reached into the car, plucking the gun from the man’s shaking hands and waving it haphazardly at the frightened Troublemaker. The man covered his face as he shouted, “I’ll tell you everything just please don’t hurt me!”

Beca frowned, voice deep and gravelly. “Well that’s no fun.”

With a little roll of her eyes the brunette had the man step out of the car and led him back into the alleyway, one hand gripping his forearm as the other held his gun. The man whimpered and shook but said nothing else as Beca pushed him into the back of the closed alley. Once she’d let go of him, he’d held his hands up in the air and fell to his knees as he continued to beg.

“I’m not going to kill you, dumbass,” the brunette sighed, rolling her eyes as she adjusted the buzz in her ear. The man was getting annoying. After turning the man’s pleas into a barely audible background music, the masked vigilante pulled a mint out of one of her many hidden pockets and offered it to the man. “Take this.”

The Troublemaker took it gingerly, eyeing it for a second before popping it into his mouth and chewing. “What is it?”

Beca smirked as she watched his eyes glaze over and close as she replied, “Knock out mint.”

The man crumpled to the ground as the brunette snapped her fingers and spoke into her comms. “Got the guy. I’ll bring him to the dungeons but could someone hide the car once I’m there? Jesse’d love to have it back.”

“Early Christmas gift?” Stacie replied as the shorter brunette lifted the man over her shoulder and tossed him into the back of the car, half-heartedly buckling him in before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Beca started the car and pressed a hidden button on her left wrist, her whole suit and mask fading into casual clothes paired with her trusted mufflers and shades as the brunette drove out of Highnote territory and back into the safer parts of Barden City. The drive flew by as the brunette made her way to the group’s actual headquarters (or the HQ that _wasn’t_ her apartment in the middle of city central), the three story, faded red bricked, once-upon-a-time-apartment-building blended in with the other mismatched bungalows in the area.

The building had originally been Stacie’s, as their tech specialist had wanted a personal laboratory outside of her workplace, but when the group had started to fall together (or get dragged together by the foot, in Beca’s case) then the mortgage and bills were split between the five women.

The brunette parked in front of the building, locking the car once she had the Troublemaker draped over her shoulders before making her way into the apartment.

The first floor held the usual apartment vibes. It had a kitchen to the right of the entrance and a living room to the left. There was a quaint little restroom right under the staircase going up and a dimly lit staircase going down right next to it. Once she was sure the front door was locked and spotted Lily driving the Camaro away (the girl was probably in the car the whole ride over—maybe. Beca could never tell), the brunette changed her hold on the man by throwing him over her shoulder before taking the stairs to the basement.

It was in the basement and the top two floors that the building started to look less homey and more out of a comic book. The basement was their interrogation and holding room. Beca liked to call it the dungeons, even if everything was furnished to the most modern of tastes. The holding room had an L-shaped couch and some rug from Tasmania (which Beca always argued they didn’t need, but Stacie chose not to comment and Lily and Flo fell in love with the ugly thing). The interrogation room had the usual two chairs and table melded to the floor, a big one-sided window kept impeccably clean and wiped at least twice a day.

The brunette placed the man on a chair, cuffing one of his hands to the table before turning on the air conditioning in the room and slipping out to make herself a sandwich (she was hungry—playing hero was a lot of work). She locked the room’s door before bounding up the stairs and settling herself into the kitchen.

As Beca prepared herself a snack, she wondered if the others were hungry as well. Amy and Flo were probably still in the control room, Lily should be returning from hiding the car, and Stacie—had just arrived. Okay then.

Steel blue eyes rose from the just-finished BLT sandwich to find a handsome young man with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes grinning at her from the kitchen entrance. The man spread his arms open, chuckling, “What do you think?”

Beca was put off by the heavy English accent the man had, blinking twice before a frown twisted her lips and she returned to her sandwich. “You’re a fuckboy.”

Both women startled at the deep, gruff voice of the girl, Beca barking out a laugh when she realized she hadn’t turned off her voice scrambler. The blonde rolled his eyes but grinned, sauntering into the room and lifting the brunette into a hug before she could turn off her scrambler or start on a second sandwich (for the others, of course—probably). Beca squealed—the sound close to a strange mix of drowning cat and horde of dolphins—hitting the man who eventually put her back down with a chuckle. The brunette turned off her scrambler before she turned back to her ingredients, the blonde leaning on the counter next to her. “His name’s Luke and he’s some station manager at the local station.”

The brunette blinked, looking up at the man as she gave him a more proper once over. Her eyes widened when she realized that she recognized him. “Holy shit you’re my old fucking _boss_.”

The blonde’s brows furrowed as he gave himself a once over. “Really? You worked at a radio station?”

Beca rolled her eyes and nodded before returning to making another sandwich as she snacked on the first one she made. Swallowing her first bite, she sighed, “A long time ago, yeah. Back when you went off to college. Luke Stroma, right?”

The blonde’s eyes widened as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! _Yes_! Holy shit! I morphed into your ex-boss!”

“I can see that.”

“He’s hot as hell!”

“Eh, he’s fine.”

“Beca, just because you realized you’re gay as fuck doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate a fine ass.”

“His ass isn’t all that, but his abs are nice.”

The blonde lifted his shirt and examined the six pack he apparently had, grinning as he dropped it back into place and looked back at the unimpressed brunette. “Do you think—”

“No, Stacie, you are not banging my ex-boss.”

The blonde pouted, his chiseled jaw doing nothing to make it look natural. “Aw, but Bec, he’s hot!”

“And engaged,” the brunette glared at her friend, finally finishing the second sandwich and handing it to the man. “To a singer.”

“Boo,” the blonde continued to pout, taking the sandwich and eating it half-heartedly. He paused mid-bite as an idea struck him, the man turned to the brunette with wide blue eyes, “Think I can bang his fiancée?”

“ _Dude_!” Beca tried to slap the man, but the blonde ducked easily out of range (knowing full well that a slap was like a cannonball smacking you at mid-range—if it were a slightly gentle slap, of course).

The man laughed, running to the interrogation room with the sandwich in hand, “Just kidding! Love you, Becs! Please don’t kill me!”

The brunette simply sighed before adjusting the buzz on her muffler, finishing her sandwich and packing away before heading to the intel room to see if she could put off interrogating with Stacie. The girl liked to “method act” sometimes and it was scary as fuck whenever the girl was doing it in the likeness of someone else. It was as if Beca was really talking to a stranger (which is something she’d never thought she’d call the taller brunette).

Taking the stairs to the second floor, the brunette knocked on the second door to her left and opened it without a second thought. The pale blue room was dim but not dark, monitors and television screens hung and standing all around the front and right side of the wall. The left side had a small couch and some audio and recording equipment (that Beca sometimes borrowed for her rare DJ gigs—but no one’s called her out on it in months, so).

Amy sat by the monitors on the right and Flo seemed to be playing Pacman on one of the computers in the center. Neither woman looked up from their screen as the brunette entered but both gave a noncommittal greeting to the woman.

Settling into the lone couch, steel blue eyes fell on the monitor screening the nightly news. The brunette watched the usual headline and strange news find play out on the screen before her eyes narrowed, then widened, at the blonde who’s picture the reporter seemed to be pointing at. Beca adjusted her muffler. “Put up the volume on monitor seven.”

Flo did so without breaking eye contact from her game, the smooth drone of the reporter echoing around the room.

“…department have issued a statement saying that they are no longer associated with the Barden Bellas. This incident has caused quite the commotion not only for the city’s favorite heroes but for the city officials and police department as well. No word from the Bellas on their side of the story as of yet but some eye witnesses report to seeing the city’s super team escaping their headquarters to gather in a more disclosed area.

“In related news, the Slut was seen parading through lower Barden with some witnesses claiming to have seen the Phantom making headway into Highnotes territory with the fellow super. We have on-site reporter Thomas Silver with…”

The rest of the news was drowned out by the brunette’s flying thoughts. Beca flew to her feet and took quick, long strides to stand next to Amy. The Australian was recording and monitoring Stacie’s interrogation—and by the looks of it, the woman (man?) was just about finished. “Amy, could you search for the latest news on the Barden Bellas?”

“I have it here, captain,” Flo called from her seat, the Pacman on her screen replaced by a surprising, black headline.

Steel blue eyes scanned over the headline before running quickly through the article, the monitor displaying the news was muted as every woman focused on reading up on the latest event. It was only when Stacie entered the room (as herself, thank _god_ ) with Lily in tow that the others broke out of their trance.

Warm brown eyes narrowed in confusion as Stacie looked around and noted the somber mood in the room. “What’s with the dead silence?”

Steel blue eyes met earthy orbs. “The Bellas fucked up.”


	4. A proposition implies a choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’d jinxed it.
> 
> Cold blue eyes looked to silver, to warm blue and black, then to burning red. She was surrounded.
> 
> By the Bellas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own PP. Unbetaed. Will update again in two weeks!

Bright pulsing light flickered across the brunette’s red plaid and blank tank as music played at the softest volume from her thick black headphones. Slender pale fingers tapped steadily on faded oak as steel blue orbs wandered around the quaint little coffee shop she frequented way too often (which was both amazing and stupid as it was only a block away from her apartment). Her knuckles grew chalky as she gripped the innocent, beaten black pen over blank yellow paper with her other hand.

Her focus shifted from the strange quote plastered on the window to the tilted shake of her table, beat and grip jolting as steel blue flew to earthy brown.

Her friend shot her a shit-eating grin as she adjusted her mufflers. “So how’s the song coming along?”

Cold blue eyes narrowed as thin pink lips slid into a frown. The shorter brunette couldn’t tell if she was being teased or what. The tone of Stacie’s voice wasn’t all that innocent, but it wasn’t mischievous as well. It was strange. It was like the woman was actually— _happy_.

“What the fuck’s up with your face?” Beca’s nose wrinkled as her taller friend slid her drink order over and sat across her.

Stacie’s brows furrowed in confusion, head shaking lightly as she asked, “What do you mean?”

“You seem,” the shorter woman paused, frown twisting as she searched for the word. “ _Content_.”

The taller brunette rolled her eyes at the dramatics, smirking smugly as she leaned back in her seat. “So what if I am?”

“It’s weird,” Beca’s frown deepened. “You’re weird. Stop it.”

Stacie simply grinned in reply, long slender fingers wrapping around her cup as brown eyes twinkled in whatever the fuck it was. “Not all of us hate life as we know it, shortstack.”

The musician scoffed, cold blue eyes falling back to her abandoned screen as slender fingers picked up her pen again. “I don’t hate life, I just have a certain—distaste for certain parts of it.”

“Like every part?”

“More or less.”

“Come on, Becs, cheer up. You’re in the presence of the greatest human being ever.”

“Beyoncé?”

“Fair enough,” the taller brunette rolled her eyes before resting her elbows on the table and leaning in with a grin. “So, guess what?”

“You’re finally moving to another state and letting me rest in peace?”

“As if,” Stacie scoffed, shaking her head before continuing excitedly. “I met someone.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I asked her out on a date.”

“That’s great.”

“We’re going out later tonight and I need you to distract the girls to get them off my case.”

“And here I thought you were just sharing the good news.”

“Come on, Becs, be a friend, be a pal. You know Amy would spam my ass if she figured I’m going on a date.”

“And Lily would probably tail you just to make sure your date didn’t kill you.”

“ _Exactly_! Come on, Becs, in the name of our friendship!”

“Nah, go deal with your shit yourself.”

“Beca!” the shorter brunette dodged Stacie’s offended punch easily, smirk growing as the taller brunette growled. “Bec!”

Steel blue eyes glowed in mischief as the musician gave in with a laugh. “Okay okay! Fine! I’ll cover for you tonight.”

“You better get your shit together, Mitchell,” warm brown eyes glared despite the slight waver in the shapeshifter’s voice.

Steel blue softened at the whitened knuckles and locked jaw of her friend, the shorter brunette offering an encouraging smile as she nodded seriously. “It’ll be fine, Stace. You’ll knock your girl off her feet.”

The taller brunette’s smile was tight and small, but it was genuine and thankful as the other woman nodded and let out a breath. “Yeah,” she’d mumbled into her cup. “Of course.”

“So what time’s this magical date? And where?” the little musician offered the girl a friendly smirk (smiling was just another chore all together).

Warm brown eyes lit up as the taller brunette straightened. “I’ll pick her up tonight at eight and then take her to Kai’s. After that we’ll take a walk around the pier and then we’ll watch a concert in the Abernathy-McKadden Center before I drive her back home.”

Beca let out a long, low whistle. “Pulling out all the stops, I see. I don’t know what you’re so worried about, Conrad. This shit sounds perfect.”

Stacie rolled her eyes, fingers tightening around her cup. “I’m not _nervous_ , I’m just—it’s different. I feel like this’ll be different.”

And if Beca couldn’t see it through the shaking and clenching then, she’d have to be _blind_ not to see it now. Stacie was _hoping_. She was hoping for something more—because it made her _happy_. It was the strangest sight the little brunette had ever seen in her childhood friend, and the musician fully supported her.

A genuine little smiled curled her lips as Beca nodded in reply. “I’m happy for you, really, Stace. You deserve the best things in the world.”

Stacie’s smile grew at the sentiment before warm brown widened with a gasp. “I have a report to submit by five today.”

Beca quirked a brow in reply. “And so you’re still sitting here because…?”

The taller brunette glared half-heartedly, pushing her chair back as she slung her purse over her shoulder and smirked at the little musician. “Enjoy your song-writing, Becs. Oh, and thanks for the coffee.”

Beca simply replied with a lazy wave, cold blue falling back to her laptop as she picked up her pen and tried to put herself back in the zone. Seconds blurred into minutes, blurred into hours, until the gentle afternoon sun had fallen into the sharp fluorescent of the café lighting. The brunette had ordered three more coffees by the time she felt mildly satisfied with the lyrics she’d made.

She packed her things as she hummed the tune she was planning to add under her breath, knowing that Stacie was going to call in a couple hours (she’d rather deal with the girls’ shit in the comfort of her own couch, thank you). Her mufflers were on full blast to the point that even her humming was muted into comforting silence, the only noise being the buzz in her ears and the harmonies and tunes in the brunette’s thoughts. Absorbed in her own little world, the little musician started to make her way out the café and missed the harried redhead who’d spun much too quickly and tripped over her own heels.

She wondered why her powers weren’t invulnerability. “ _Fuck_!”

Pale hands pulled her shirt away from her stinging body, the striking warmth and smell of coffee overwhelming the brunette as she held her shirt with one hand and lowered the buzzing with the other. The rushed and panicked apologies of a honeysweet voice hit her ears the second the buzzing lessened.

“What the he—” Cold blue turned to glare sharply at her assailant before the anger died from her lips at the sight of burning red hair and warm blue eyes starting to water.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry,” the woman pulled out handfuls of tissue from her bag and offered it with big blue eyes. “I wasn’t—I-I’m _sorry_.”

The sight of a single tear escaping ocean blue brought Beca back from her stupor. She took the offered tissues with a small grimace. “It’s fine, and as much as I love my coffee, I don’t think it’s worth crying over.”

“Oh god,” the redhead choked out a shaky laugh, the tissue she hadn’t taken pressing under warm blue. “I’m _so sorry_.”

“Dude, it’s cool,” Beca managed a more genuine smile, hoping the redhead wasn’t going to break down right then and there in the middle of the coffee shop (the whole store was already staring, no need to make it any more awkward). She also felt kind of bitchy making a gorgeous girl cry, so she wanted to avoid seeing any more tears while she was still, y’know, _there_. “Seriously. I needed an excuse to buy a new shirt anyways.”

Unfortunately, that seemed to only trigger the redhead more. The tissue transferred to the woman’s other eye. “Why are you so _nice_?”

Realizing that the redhead was definitely _not_ crying over the coffee, the brunette gathered her soppy tissues and threw them in the trash before taking the woman by the elbow and guiding her into the café restroom. Once she’d locked the door behind her, she took a good, long look at the sobbing redhead and asked, “You okay?”

And before Beca knew it, she had a bawling redhead in her arms, crying into her shoulder. Stiff pale arms wrapped around the woman tentatively, the brunette unsure of her own actions. The last time Beca's ever comforted a crying girl was when Stacie was ten and had scraped her knee. Baby Beca had awkwardly patted the girl's back before offering her last lollipop and singing Trippin’ to try and lighten the mood. Stacie had tried to hum along minutes later, lollipop in her mouth as little Beca tried to dance to the song she’d heard so much on the radio.

She didn’t think that’d work in this situation (and she didn’t have any more lollipops).

So Beca let the redhead cry, her shoulder turning stiff and wet at the tears and weight. She tried to hum soothing sounds and rubbed small, slow circles on the woman’s back as they stood there for hours (12 minutes, really, but Beca wasn’t counting). Once the sobs faded into soft sniffles and hiccups, the brunette pulled away with a hesitant smile.

“ _god_ ,” the redhead forcefully wiped away her tears, leaving makeup trailing under her eyes. “You must think I’m insane.”

“Bad day?” Beca chose to ask instead, neither confirming nor denying her thoughts on the redhead (she thought the woman was batshit crazy—but really fucking gorgeous, so).

The woman nodded, sniffles dissolving into deep breaths. “Really bad. Very bad. Probably the worst week _ever_.”

Beca stopped herself from shrugging, realizing the action might be considered rude or something. Instead, she nodded dumbly and continued to smile. She couldn’t quite say she related—her day job was getting better (her client had asked _her_ to head the production of their debut album and was refusing any other producer) and her night job was kind of okay, too (the police were giving them more leeway nowadays). So she opted to just be a listening ear for the girl to rant.

“It’s just,” the redhead huffed, “my job’s in the red because of budget cuts in school and I’m part of the arts department and you _know_ how shitty the academe is to staff from the _arts department_ and then—” Beca nodded as she listened, side-stepping the woman to grab some tissue and wet it before waving for the redhead to take a seat on the sink. The woman did so without breaking pace, hands flying here and there as she spoke. “—my friends and I are being judged because of a small fucking _mistake_ that my best friend made because she was just so _nervous_ about not messing up and so the whole world seems to be blaming her for something so small when everything’s been going just _peachy_ before all this and now it feels like none of us can even get out of our fucking houses without being _judged_ , which, what the hell? Move _on_ , world!”

Pale gentle hands wiped away the smudge marks on the redhead’s face as she ranted and raged, Beca humming and nodding and dodging her wild hands as she half-listened to the woman get things off her chest. She didn’t know if the woman was famous or anything (maybe she was a model?), but she felt for the woman who’d cried her heart out in the middle of a coffee shop. By the time the redhead had stopped speaking, Beca had managed to wipe away all traces of tears and makeup trails from the woman’s face.

Both women leaned back with a sigh.

Beca quirked a brow. “Better?”

The redhead squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “Much. Thank you.”

She shrugged in reply, throwing the tissue out before fixing her own appearance in the mirror. “It’s cool.”

The woman hopped off the sink and took Beca’s hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Really, thank you. You didn’t need to comfort me or check on me, but you did. Thank you _so much_.”

The brunette tried not to squirm under the intensity and sincerity in the woman’s tone. She didn’t quite know why she’d stayed, either, and she’d rather not have people overanalyzing her shit. Nodding stiffly, she muttered a “You’re welcome” before stepping back.

The redhead’s responding grin left her frozen. How _anyone_ could look so beautiful after crying for a quarter of an hour left her stunned. “I’m Chloe, by the way. Could I maybe buy you some coffee? For all the trouble.”

Beca was surprised she still knew how to function. “Beca, and it’s cool, really. As long as you’re good.” The brunette tried not to cave at the small frown it left on Chloe’s lips. “It’s not, like, that I don’t want you—I mean! Coffee, with you, yeah.” An amused smile flitted on to the redhead’s lips and Beca found herself flushing at how stupid and flustered she was. “I just, I have somewhere to be—for a friend. My friend kind of, she needs me to—”

“I’m so sorry!” Chloe straightened with a jolt. “I didn’t mean to keep you!”

“Dude, it’s okay,” Beca reassured her (she couldn’t handle any more crying—ever). “But I kind of need to go now, so, uh, maybe next time?”

She didn’t mean to make it sound like a question. It was a statement, damnit.

The redhead’s smile was smaller but just as genuine as she nodded and asked her if she had a pen. The brunette pulled out her songwriting pen.

“Sure, next time,” the redhead said as she took Beca’s left hand and started scribbling on the back of it. She pulled away with a triumphant grin and handed the pen back over with a flashy wave. Her voice was bright and cheery and a bit too eerily familiar as she unlocked the door before turning back to her. “It was nice meeting you, Bec! I owe you, like, two!”

Beca nodded as she waved and watched the redhead bound out the bathroom with unusual cheer for someone who’d just been crying. She’d walked out just minutes later, dazed, confused, and more than a little bit flustered. As she finally left the café and made the short walk back to her apartment, Beca spotted the sharp black numbers written on the back of her hand.

Could her life get any better?

 

 

 

She’d jinxed it.

Cold blue eyes looked to silver, to warm blue and black, then to burning red. She was surrounded.

By the Bellas.

What the fuck?

“We ain’t here for a fight,” Blue Song crossed her blue covered arms over her black suited torso.

“I wouldn’t call three on one a fight, either,” Beca grinned beneath her mask, voice garbled from her scrambler and hands resting casually over her utility belt. She wasn’t quite that worried about being ganged up on. She knew most of the Bellas’ powers and weaknesses and she was certain that they were still iffy about hers.

The Solstice’s silver gloved hands rested diplomatically in front of her as she tried to placate the vigilante. “We’re here with a proposition.”

“I _just_ started my shift,” Beca’s hands flew to the air in joking surrender. She tried not to wince at the way all three women tensed. “I haven’t done anything—yet.”

Sunshine stepped forward cautiously, usually melting red dimmed into a warm molten lava under the gentle glow of the clouded moon. “Phantom.” Beca froze at the familiar lilt and warmth in the hero’s voice her thumb slid down her index instinctively. “We want you to join our team.”

Fuck.

“What?” she replied, still frozen in her spot as the world sharpened around her and she could hear the familiar lilt and hitch in the redhead’s voice. She could hear the gentle timbre of the hero’s voice and recognized the bright, coaxing pitch she used. It may have been a different situation, but she _knew_ that voice.

Double fuck.

“We want you to join our team,” Sunshine— _Chloe_?—repeated as she started to pick up pace, hands starting to follow her train of thought and _fuck_. Chloe-from-the-coffee-shop-two-days-ago was Sunshine-the-fucking- _Bella_. “We mean, not just you. We’d like to recruit you and the other vigilantes to become Bellas. You’re the last person we’ve tried to contact and the Slut and Asian Dragon said that they’ll go wherever you go, so, please. We’d like for all of you to become Bellas.”

She nodded absentmindedly to everything the hero said, mind still reeling from both the offer and the fact that _Coffee Shop Chloe_ was the _Barden Bella’s Sunshine_.

Fuck her life.

“Phantom?” Cold blue snapped up to find the redhead only a few feet away from her. She stumbled as she stepped back.

“Uh, I-we’ll think about it,” she rushed, walking backwards until she hit the roof’s ledge. Why didn’t she have flying or teleportation abilities? The one time she actually appreciated having powers and she couldn’t even fucking _use_ them. She needed to get the fuck out of there.

Chloe— _Sunshine_!—froze at the skittish reply, hands rising slowly as if to show she was unarmed (which was fucking pointless because she had _fire powers_ ). “We’re not here to hurt you.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” the brunette tried not to look around. “Look, I’ll just talk to my people and we’ll decide together. We’ll, um, we’ll contact you as soon as we’ve decided. Okay, bye!”

Beca turned and jumped off the roof without a second thought, Chloe’s shouts of “Wait!” lost in the distance as the masked woman made a run for it through the winding side-alleys of Barden.

Stacie didn’t stop laughing at her when she’d told her and Amy about everything that had happened.

Amy reminded her to call their future super-child Amy Jr.


	5. Do all decisions need to be so dramatic?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But she knew she couldn’t grow attached. Chloe may not have been the enemy, but such a warm reception felt strange to the brunette—and so she tried to keep her distance, going as far as changing the whole patrol schedule just the day before and changing it up at random intervals of the day.
> 
> She just needed time to sort through her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own PP or the characters. Unbetaed. Will hopefully update in around two weeks!

It was strange.

Four days had passed since Beca realized that Coffee Shop Chloe was Sunshine. Four days had passed since the Bellas had proposed they join forces. Four days had passed since she’d run away.

Six days had passed since she’d started texting Chloe.

The brunette hadn’t been able to stop herself from texting the redhead, even after she’d learned she was a damn _Bella_. She’d returned after that night, ranting and panicking to Stacie and Amy before she’d retreated into her room and mixed the rest of the night away.

That night was the longest time she’d spent not texting Chloe since she met the woman (she’d caved at the redhead’s worried texts about whether she’d done anything wrong, texting her first thing the morning after with apologies—and _emojis_ ). She actually _enjoyed_ talking to the redhead and even amused the woman when she knew she was talking about her (or Phantom, whatever. Same difference).

It was strange to get such a connection with someone after meeting them less than a week before, but she liked reading about the redhead’s random thoughts throughout the day and _feeling_ her excitement from all the emojis and exclamation points.

But even if she kind of enjoyed talking to the girl, she couldn’t imagine working with the goddamn Barden fucking _Bellas_. The _Bellas_!

The Barden Bellas had hated her the day she first tried to save someone (try being the operative word and Bellas being more singular than plural). Captain Bella had been painting her as the image of criminality and the face of all outlaws ever since her big debut (with the whole costume and gear shtick). When the other Bellas were interviewed, only Sunshine had the barest hint of neutrality and kindness towards her alter ego (she’d said she made their job easier once!). Other than her, the rest of the Bellas have been clear about their dislike and distaste for her as a hero (although Solstice said that she’s sure she’s a nice person in real life—she’s pretty sure she’d disappoint the woman if they ever did join forces).

She didn’t know what specific thing about her the Bellas disliked, but whatever it was had kept her at the top of their blacklist for the past four and a half years. This was the second biggest reason why she was hesitating on the offer.

The first reason was Coffee Shop Chloe.

Coffee Shop Chloe who had taken to looking for her every night she’d go out on patrol to ask—or simply just talk. The redhead liked to talk _a lot_. And, contrary to popular belief, Beca _did_ have a heart. She didn’t just brush off the flame user or ignore her during her patrols. In fact, their talks were just as nice said in the quiet nights above the Barden rooftops as they were with emojis and Snaps.

But she knew she couldn’t grow attached. Chloe may not have been the enemy, but such a warm reception felt _strange_ to the brunette—and so she tried to keep her distance, going as far as changing the whole patrol schedule just the day before and changing it up at random intervals of the day.

She just needed time to sort through her thoughts.

“I don’t know, Bec, there are lots of pros and cons to this thing,” Stacie didn’t bother to look up from filing her nails, resting easy on the couch of the control room.

“Okay, let’s name them then,” Beca crossed her arms, pacing back and forth as Fat Amy ate and watched from her office chair and Flo and Lily played cards on the desk.

The lights were on for once and only monitors one to four were on (“ _Turn the damn thing off, Amy!_ ” Beca had growled when the Australian tried to watch The Newsroom on the monitor in front of her. She’d barked for all monitors to be shut off, but Stacie had reasoned that they needed at least two news channels and their usual surveillance footage in sight and the crabby little super had relented with a huff).

“Pro,” Stacie started off calmly—she’d known the brunette practically all her life and not even her shitty little stress-induced grumpiness could deter her from keeping her nails _gorgeous_. “The Bellas have amazing equipment.”

Fat Amy raised her grease-covered hand. “But aren’t you the one making our shit?”

The tallest woman shrugged. “I can only make so much with the money we have. The Bellas have the dough _and_ the machines to make our stuff better.”

“I doubt the Bella-Nazi would let us use it though,” Fat Amy let her hand fall back into her bag of snacks. “She kind of hates us.”

“Then why did she even offer us the deal?” Flo asked without sparing a glance at the others, placing a pair of 5s on top of the pile.

Stacie agreed with a nod, finally pleased enough with her nails to look up. “I doubt the Bellas would’ve asked without making a vote for it. They’re in a desperate situation right now—which is both a good thing and bad thing for us. It’s good because it gives us the chance to actually learn about them and what shit they can do—what they’re capable of. We can use their equipment and figure out what level all their powers are. We can learn their ticks and habits and we’d definitely have more connections in the powered world because of them.

“It’s bad because it’s more tracks to cover if ever they find out about our identities. It can leave us vulnerable because we aren’t as established as them and they might abuse their power and position over us or something. And just like how we can learn about them, accepting this gives them the chance to learn about us—our habits and powers and weaknesses.”

“So it’s a gamble either way,” Beca huffed, fingers sliding to the bridge of her nose as she rubbed away whatever pain was building.

“I say let’s go for it,” Fat Amy shrugged as she crumpled up her snack bag and tossed it in the trash, the plastic ball falling a good foot away from the bin.

Beca sighed, picking up the ball and tossing it in before turning back to pace the other way. “I don’t think it’s that easy, Amy.”

The Australian dusted the crumbs off her hands. “Why not? Let’s take our own vote on it!”

Beca finally stopped pacing, staring at the seriousness in the blonde’s eyes. “For fuck’s sake.”

* * *

Chloe Beale loved her friends.

She really, _really_ did. But sometimes they could be a bit—overwhelming.

Not that she didn’t love their quirks! She loved everything about her little family, but a girl could only take so much stress and anxiousness and puke in one day.

“Aubrey,” slender tan fingers tightened around her fourth stress ball. “It’ll be fine.”

Sharp blue eyes turned to hers as a shaky smile quirked the blonde’s lips. “Of course it will! Why wouldn’t it be? That hobbit would be more than lucky to be a Bella. We’re giving her the opportunity of a lifetime—why wouldn’t she agree?”

“Seriously, Bree, your stress is making _me_ stressed.” Chloe’s grip on the ball strengthened until it looked ready to explode (good thing it was foam).

“It’s just,” Aubrey started for what felt like the fiftieth time in the past _hour_ (Chloe had stopped counting after twenty seven). “What if they turn it down? _Why_ would they turn it down? Aside from us being the biggest laughingstocks in the entire city, of course. I mean, it’s not like they’re much better, right? Righ—oh my god we’ll never get out of this mess.”

The ball burst into flames. Without sparing the ginger a glance, Aubrey flicked her wrist up and to the left to get the water in her glass to douse out the flame. The blonde’s eyes fluttered shut as she leaned her head on the edge of the table. “Sorry.”

Chloe sighed as her grip loosened on the charred ball and let the melted piece fall into the bin by her feet. Used to the sting and numb from the callouses, the redhead cupped her hand over her mouth and breathed in deep, the smell of burnt _anything_ filling her being and easing away the edge on her shoulders and the pounding in her head. She would be outside smoking away her nerves if Aubrey hadn’t forced her to stop after college, so living off burnt smells had become her new habit on the rare occasions she’d be stressed and anxious and sad (she’s proud to say she’s only ever done it twice before).

Honestly, it wasn’t really Aubrey’s dramatics that were eating at her, but everything on top of everything. Her salary was getting cut due to budget cuts (although she’s very, incredibly grateful that that was all she got. She could still see the tears on Mrs. Blanche’s face every time the cut was brought up) and she was handling double the classes for half the pay. Aubrey had suggested she quit and transfer schools, but Chloe could never do that to her kids. The whole fallen from grace situation wasn’t really helping the added stress and watching all her friends break down, defeated, was deflating her own usual ray of optimism as well.

That was why she’d suggested teaming up with the vigilantes in the first place. It was her idea to get the outside help, because at this point, what did they have to lose? She would do _anything_ to keep her little family together, and if that meant expanding and adopting a few… _strays_ —then she’d be more than willing to take the risk.

Besides, the vigilantes (“ _You can call us the Dudes_ ,” she remembered the Slut smirking mischievously under her goggles when she’d asked if she’d like to join the Bellas. It was the first time she’d ever heard of the group name—and the first time she’d ever even heard of the heroes acknowledging one another) weren’t as dangerous or chaotic as the news (or Aubrey, at first) made them out to be. From the few encounters she’d shared with the Slut, the woman had an easy-going, kind of cheeky attitude. Although she still wasn’t sure what the woman’s powers were, she seemed nice enough and more than friendly (or flirty. Probably both). She had to admit, though, that the woman’s stories (and her friendship with the Asian Dragon) were kind of unnerving and seemed very—sketchy (she still isn’t sure how she had an in with the Troublemakers during the supposed Two-Ton Drop operation more than two and a half years ago).

And the vigilante Aubrey seemed to hate the most was honestly kind of adorable (not that she’d ever say _that_ aloud). For the past few days, Chloe had taken to finding the vigilante during her nightly patrols and—though she’d tried pitching to the girl and getting her to consider their offer, she always ended up just _talking_ with the woman. It became such a habit that on the third day, she’d stopped asking her to join and just talked about anything and everything they could think of. The woman always reminded her of someone she knew—but she couldn’t quite put her finger on who.

They talked a lot—or at least Chloe talked the woman’s ear off and the Phantom would give sarcastic commentary every now and then. It was nice. It was comfortable. It felt natural—like she’d known the woman for much longer than just three days. She looked forward to the evening because of their little nightly rendezvous. They made her shitty week more than a little bearable.

It was those moments—the softened car honks and faintly dotted sky disappearing from their own little world as she waved her hands left and right to share some ridiculous tale just to see a faint twitch under the stretched black mask—that kept her sane enough to calm her panicking best friend.

The best friend who she’d stopped sharing the little things with (for now, at least). It’s not that she was doing it on purpose, but she didn’t want to worry her friend any more than she already was (and she knew sharing about her little nightly escapades would’ve given the woman an aneurysm).

With a soft sigh, Chloe picked up another stress ball and gently tossed it to the blonde. “We never really gave them a due date to reply, Bree. I’m sure they just want to think everything through.”

Aubrey scoffed. “Those girls don’t think _anything_ through.”

“Bree,” the redhead gently scolded. “You can’t talk like that once they’re part of the team. Besides, they’re all actually really nice.”

“Nice people don’t break the law, Chloe.”

“Robin Hood would beg to differ.”

“Chlo _e_.”

“I just think that they’d probably be more willing to join us if _everyone_ played nice.”

“Fine, but if that hobbit throws the first punch, I’m not holding back.”

Chloe held back her sigh as she simply nodded in defeat. Aubrey wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge, and she knew that her friend saw the Phantom as her biggest challenge yet. The redhead watched as the blond attacked her stress ball and seeing the stiffness in her friend’s shoulders ease just a bit helped Chloe breathe the smallest smidge better.

And then Ashley and Jessica barged into the room.

“The monitors,” was all Jessica shouted before the blond grabbed Ashley’s hand to pull her back out. The seemingly more calm brunette waved for the pair to follow, shouting over her shoulder, “You two need to see this!”

At the interruption, Chloe felt her heart spark back up, the jumpy beat matching her speedy pace. Aubrey jogged alongside her as the pair followed Ashley and Jessica into the control room.

Chloe froze at the sight she was met with once inside.

Almost every monitor in the room had dissolved into a static mess with only the three center monitors displaying one message on each screen.

 _11:30PM_. _Snowfield Forest, Barden Outskirts_. _Masks on._


End file.
